


gimme your ammo (gimme your love)

by FuzzyPurplePenguins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe-Criminals, M/M, Niall Has Minions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuzzyPurplePenguins/pseuds/FuzzyPurplePenguins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This doesn't mean anything," Harry declares firmly, squeezed into the back of a nondescript van with Horan and his crew. "I still hate you."</p><p>"Aye," The Irishman agrees. "But I figure you owe us for getting you out of jail time. What's a heist between colleagues?"</p><p>"Get me out of this jumpsuit," Harry says after a few seconds. "Then we'll talk."</p><p>(Or the one where Harry's a fairly famous thief and a bit of a loner; Niall's his unusual rival who might be a mob boss in training; Liam's the muscle and has a love for cute animal videos; Louis knows his way around practically every weapon in the world; and Zayn's the resident tech expert/hacker who wields nunchucks)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to warn you now that you're not going to see a lot of the time Harry spent with the Horan crew until part two, via flashbacks. It's how the story wrote itself. D: The tone of this story keeps changing as I write it, I've given up trying to fix it. D:
> 
> Anything that Harry or the Horan crew steal has been made up by me, for the purpose of avoiding research. I suck at research. :l
> 
> i dont know why i gave liam a tumblr it sort of just happened just go with it okay?
> 
> Before I forget: imagine Niall's minions as the human equivalent of the Despicable Me minions, because that's how I wrote them. :DD
> 
> Enjoy.

It's one of the worst things in the world, getting caught.

Getting caught on what was supposed to be a flawless job is even worse.

Everything had been planned out. No detail had been left unprepared for. He'd had a (hired) crew. They'd been training for weeks. Everything had gone perfectly.

Until it hadn't.

Horan had been there. Performing the same job. And various law enforcement agents descended on them like vultures feeding on their prey.

The others got away. Harry (and Horan) hasn't been so lucky.

The FBI agent who caught him had been so smug, crowing about nabbing the infamous Lone Wolf Styles, hadn't been afraid to rough him up a bit before throwing him in federal prison.

Agent Jerk had somehow managed to pull some strings, get Harry transferred to a super max prison...and further rubbed his 'victory' in the thief's face by chaining him up to Horan, of all people, on the trip there.

Harry scowls.

In five years, he'll be out. Then he'll get his revenge. Maybe by tempting Agent Jerk's daughter to the dark side.

Horan shifts on the seat next to him, chains rustling. Harry snaps his head around and practically death-glares at him.

The Irish criminal simply smirks at him.

The bus stops, suddenly, and Harry's curls flounce into his face as he jerks forward, nearly face planting into the seat in front of him.

"I believe this is our stop, mate," Horan says cheerfully as the gunshots rang out. "Oi, Tommo! Come get us out of these chains, yeah?"

xxxxxxxxxx

"This doesn't mean anything," Harry declares firmly three miles later, squeezed into the back of a non descript van with Horan and his crew. "I still hate you."

"Aye," The Irishman agrees. "But I figure you owe us for getting you out of jail time. What's a heist between colleagues, mm?"

Harry really kind of hates him.

"Get me out of this jumpsuit," He says after a few seconds of silence. "Then we'll talk."

"What, you don't like the orange?" Horan grins. "I think it's cheerful."

"I hate jumpsuits," Harry says through clenched teeth. "Doesn't matter what color."

Horan grins again, flashing his white teeth, and turns around, clapping one of his crew on the shoulder. "Back to the hideout, I think, Li. And let's make sure no one is following us."

The driver nods, making a sudden turn, and Harry braces his feet against the van floor and absolutely does not fall forward a bit.

"If I agree to this," Harry says once he regains his balance. "There'll have to be no strings attached once it's all over." You will not get attached, He tells himself.

There is a reason he is known as 'Lone Wolf Styles', after all.

"That's fine," Horan says dismissively, waving a hand in Harry's direction. "Wasn't expecting much else from Lone Wolf Styles."

Harry narrows his eyes at the title and crosses his arms.

The Irish male just grinns back at him, leaning back in his chair, before sitting back up. "Hey, Tommo," He says a little wistfully, splaying a hand over his stomach. "You didn't happen to bring any chips along, did you?"

xxxxxxxxxx

"I am not going on a bloody suicide mission," Harry says three and a half weeks later.

Horan looks up from what he calls his 'Crime Time Table' (what did that even mean?) and furrows his brows.

"We need you on this one, Styles," One of Horan's crew says-Harry is like 97% sure his name is Zayn, but he isn't planning on sticking around for much longer so he doesn't really care. "It's an easy bait and switch-"

"It's easy until everything goes wrong," Harry says slowly from the couch he is draped over. "It seems too easy. We'd get caught. A trap. I'm not going back to jail."

They all sort of stare at him. Harry pushes his hair back and kicks his feet out.

"Let's do something challenging. Something they assume we're not stupid enough to go after," The curly-haired brunette pauses.

"Let's nab the Desert Diamond."

"Oh, because we're not going to get caught going after that," Louis says sarcastically, and out of all of Horan's cronies Louis is the one Harry likes best.

(The fact that he is lazily twirling a machete through the air, scaring the crap out of any Horan minions that passed by, certainly helps Harry's feelings towards Louis)

Horan looks at him thoughtfully before grinning, wide and bright. "I like it. Let's do it."

Harry smirks back at him, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

At least if he has to stick with these guys for one more job, it will be going after an item that will have his blood boiling with the complexity of the heist.

xxxxxxxxxx

Three weeks later, they have their prize.

Horan's crew and his minions were celebrating, having a blast, alcohol and beer flowing through the massive underground hideout like water.

Harry had joined in on the initial toast-you had to celebrate the victories-but has long since retreated to a secluded corner with a non-alcoholic beverage (rule 10: never get drunk in an unsafe/non-friendly area), watching the festivities with a careful eye and a guarded mind.

He has another week with these guys, tops. Then he'll get the hell out of America and head...elsewhere. Wherever the job takes him. He isn't sure where exactly yet.

"Well you look like you're having a blast," Horan's rough brogue drawls to Harry's left, and the curly-haired brunette rolls his eyes, refusing to look the Irish male in the eyes. "Really, control yourself Styles, you're going to rip the place apart with all the fun you're having."

"Don't you have minions to corral or something?" The thief asks, taking a sip of his drink and setting it back down on the table.

"Put Louis in charge of them tonight," Horan's bright blue eyes glint mischievously. "I think he got out his Master Prank Kit. Should be fun to watch."

"So, basically, we're going to wake up tomorrow morning to find colored silly string everywhere?" Harry says, trying to sound aloof.

Horan cackles a bit maniacally, causing several of his minions who've been passed out at the next table over to sit upright and squeak in fear.

Harry eyes him, then says, "You're gonna make the minions clean it up too, aren't you?"

"You know me so well," He tries to say with a straight face, then promptly falls out of his seat with a beet red face as he gasps for breath between his chuckles.

xxxxxxxxxx

There is indeed silly string covering near every inch of the hideout the next morning.

Having gone to bed at a reasonable hour the previous night, Harry is up by four-fifteen am and has the few belongings that he's had at Horan's hideout packed in a duffle bag in the next five minutes.

Doing his best to tame his crazy curly hair, the thief is sneaking out of the base a mere twenty minutes after waking up, avoiding the neon glittery silly string with a skill Louis would be envious of.

Actually, Louis will probably just cut it all down with his machete-stop thinking about them, Harry, stop it, He thinks to himself firmly as he slips past a sleep-deprived night watch minion.

Harry hot wires Liam's beloved nondescript reinforced Highlander; removes, disables, and crushes all twenty-nine GPS trackers located in and around the car; and drives fifteen hours to Chicago, abandoning it just outside the city limits in a safe place he had discovered not long after making Chicago his base of operations.

He walks twenty minutes to another one of his hidden niche of vehicles before driving into Chicago's city limits.

Another hour later and he is at his base of operations, which is still wholly in tact and without a single trace of any American federal agency's presence.

Sometimes Harry thinks the law enforcement in the United States is a bit oblivious.

(Then again, no one else really knows about Harry's base besides Harry, not even any of his big shot criminal 'rivals', and that includes Horan.)

He spends two weeks in Chicago keeping an eye on the underground network, getting ready to-well, flee the country is a good enough phrase, Harry supposes.

His second day in Chicago Harry finds out that Horan is actively searching for him (Wanted: Alive and Healthy) through one of his older, more loyal contacts. Despite both the legal and criminal sides' view of him, Harry does in fact have friends, people he trusted.

Harry simply scoffs and replies via email, 'tell him I'm dead ;x he'll get a laugh out of it' and then wonders when he started caring if Horan found something funny or not.

He doesn't really want the answer to that question, so he goes back to packing.

At the end of his two weeks in Chicago Harry tames and slicks back his hair, dresses up in a suit, drops a fedora on his head, and drives to O'Hare International where he catches a flight to Toronto.

Once in Toronto he sits down at the airport's Starbucks with a Venti green tea and uses the Internet to track down Liam's tumblr.

Harry writes, 'sorry about hayley. promise I didn't harm her. tell nh ive got business and would love if he left me alone. xoxo' in his ask. He takes a sip of green tea then added the longitude and latitude coordinates of the location of Liam's Highlander at the bottom before adding 'btw, love your yowling cats montage #14 on youtube. it's the best.'

He hits send.

Three days later, he is in Barcelona.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barcelona, Moscow, Egypt, Rio, Mexico.
> 
> (aka the beginning of Harry Styles' Criminal World Tour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names of the artists who painted the pieces Harry steals are made up. (Again, research? Nope).
> 
> Couldn't decide what kind of thief I wanted Harry to be, so he kind of developed into a jack-of-all-thefts. Whoops.
> 
> This chapter could have gone better but it was weird only writing about Harry. Whatever, I'm just along for the ride at this point.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> (ps im sorry about nick things just sort of happened again *sigh*)

The first two weeks Harry is in Barcelona he steals three Mark Lyle paintings from his snooty next door neighbor, an antique set of pearls from the old man down the block who only keeps them to spite his ex-wife, and pick pockets every idiot who comes close to him at the market.

On his third day of staking out the apartment of a bunch of young rich fools who don't keep their valuables locked up properly, he gets bored enough to browse around the Internet and see what Horan's crew is up to.

(And what that means is stalking Liam's tumblr)

You're just keeping a close eye on the enemy, Harry tells himself as he scrolls through what seems like a never ending amount of cute cat and dog pictures.

Five pages in, Harry stops at a lonely, seemingly random text post.

to wHom it concernS:  
expect u 2 pay for the damage u did 2 hayley. she was a sweet girl, and u ruined her.  
z says if ur still in canada he's lost all respect for you, and will never have a high opinion of u again.  
think n secretly misses u.

Harry abandons the stakeout and drives six hours round trip to send Liam a letter:

If you really think I'm paying for the 'damage' then you have another thing coming. Tell z if he attempts to find out where I'm at i will have bessie & clark destroyed. nh doesn't have the capability to miss anyone.

He tells himself on the drive back he's only doing it to mess with their heads.

xxxxxxxxxx

Three days later he is enjoying a nice lunch with a middle-aged woman who doesn't know she is about to become a lot less wealthy and is probably expecting to get into his pants when his phone bleeps.

It is an email from Nick, one of his oldest informants, and former criminal partner (from before Harry started flying solo), and it simply says, 'r u & liam payne having a love affair via the internet??? why wasn't I invited???'

Harry chuckles at it and sends 'i think you've got me confused with louis tomlinson' back. He pockets his phone away as his target returns to the table and forgets all about it until later that evening, stuck back staking out that damned apartment, bored out of his mind.

The message is in the same format as the previous one.

wHom it concernS:  
Z says threatening Bessie & Clark is like declaring war on him.  
Lou keeps whining about never getting to pull a prank with u. Driving me crazy.  
N misses you. He definitely does.  
How's Spain?

Harry stares at the post for a long time before looking back up at the apartment across the street, looking back down at his phone, then back across the street.

An hour and a half later he strolls out of the fools' apartment with jewels and money and personal information stuffed in his shoulder bag, and food stuffed in his belly.

He sends Nick a text.

H: got a package for you to deliver

Two minutes later:

N: Thought we didn't do fraternization?

Harry sighs.

H: Not THAT kind of package.

xxxxxxxxxx

He leaves Barcelona after sending Nick the package, and heads to Moscow for a month.

Moscow is bloody cold, much colder then Barcelona, and his third day in, sitting outside some politician's posh pad, he flashes back to America, Louis and Horan sitting on either side of him, Louis throwing knives at an electrical pole and Horan playing Angry Birds on his phone.

Harry shakes it off.

The curly-haired brunette bankrupts the politician in the next week and manages to stomp his reputation into the ground. He robs an electronics store the week after that and sells them underground. His final week and a half he plays chase with the local police and acquires handfuls of precious gems.

After Moscow is Egypt, and Rio, and Puerto Vallarta.

In Egypt he takes a cruise down the Nile and nicks things in the crowds of every city they stop at, batting away young, inexperienced local pickpockets with ease even as he imagines Liam scaring off any potential threats simply by crossing his arms and looking terrifying.

The last stop on the cruise is Cairo, and Harry's hired by some timid, bookworm-ish collector to steal some meaningful artifact from the museum so he does, then gets the hell out of dodge and laughs at the newspapers days later proclaiming his 'client' has been arrested and that they are searching for his 'accomplice', except Harry never gave him his real name so there's that.

In Rio he takes a break from the life of crime and actually goes back on Liam's blog. Twenty-five pages of sleepy kittens and gifs of puppies falling over later, he finds one line of text:

n says thanks for the food.

In between trying to get a tan and enjoying local cuisine and taking tours through the jungle and taking photos of birds (they're for Liam, except not really cause he keeps them all in a picture book Nick had sent him a month ago with the words STYLES WORLD TOUR emblazoned on the front), he keeps writing letters, sending them in a bundle to Nick every week, who in turn sends them to Liam and sometimes even Horan.

After three months in Rio he dreams about Horan's stupid grin and his blue, blue eyes and his laughter, and his fingers start to itch so he sends a letter to Horan that simply says 'get ready to be outdone again' and packs up all his things and gives up on his non-existent tan and heads to Mexico.

xxxxxxxxxx

Mexico's a dangerous place, but Harry's a dangerous man so it all really balances out. He's got a bit of an understanding with the local criminal underbelly, which mostly entails of them staying out of his way and him staying out of their way.

Simple, but it works.

Harry doesn't bother to tame his curls while in Mexico, it gives him a bit of extra charm with the tourists.

Tourists who think he's one of them.

It's all really too easy.

Harry's got a bit of a fake American accent mixed with local Spanish dialect, and all those elder woman coo and fawn over him coming down to the 'slums' to help 'under privileged children' and 'save the world'. They're very lax around him and it's no challenge at all to slip his fingers in their purses and leave them less wealthy on those sunny beaches full of life.

Harry's a little bit in love with the condo he's got facing the beach, and every morning he wakes up to the sound of the ocean he thinks about just staying here for the rest of his life.

(And then the streets below leap into life, and Harry shrugs that dream off his shoulders and goes back to 'work').

Now that he's not actively trying to tan his skin's gone a bit golden, and he often takes pictures during his evening strolls down the beach and sends them to Nick, who's in England, with a cheeky caption of the day about him enjoying the year-round sun.

(Nick, of course, is not impressed)

He flirts with the local women and always stops to listen to the children roaming the streets, partly because it's part of his cover with those gullible tourists and partly because they still haven't picked up that sleight-of-hand trick he taught them the first week he was in the city.

Dinner's at a different restaurant in the area every night until he needs to start repeating, although his favorite by far is that one place with the fajitas he can never find when he's actively searching for it, and just manages to find when he's simply wandering the streets with no destination in mind.

Before he knows it two months have gone by and he can cook local cuisine with the best chefs in the area, and he still hasn't managed to pull off a heist worthy of writing back to Horan about it.

Then he meets his neighbor, renting the condo next to his.

She's gorgeous, of course she is, but when Harry looks at her he doesn't feel anything.

(fake blonde hair, the bluest of eyes, a little smirk-)

Harry thinks her name is Yvonne, and while he may not be into her she is definitely into him.

She invites him into her condo and he ends up cooking her dinner and there it is, hanging in her kitchen like it's just some piece of crap fake art you could buy at a furniture store for five bucks and not a legitimate José St Michel.

Harry nearly stops breathing.

He snaps a picture of the signature at the bottom while what's-her-face is in the bathroom and sends it to Nick (subject: forward-nh) and two seconds later Nick sends him a text, in all capital letters OH MY GOD HARRY IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS!!??!!??

It's surprisingly easy to nab the painting, three days later he gets her drunk off her ass and while she's sleeping it off on her sofa Harry replaces the St Michel with a bad knockoff and sneaks out.

She doesn't even notice it's gone in the morning, just slides a note under his door with a frowny face and Y'D U LEAVE LAST NITE? in blocky, shaky letters that he ignores.

Nick apparently brags about Harry's steal, because a week and a half later Harry gets a simple note, forwarded through his gossipy informant.

you don't have to prove yourself. come back. -n.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes back (eventually).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some actual basic research for this chapter I'm so proud of myself.
> 
> Not much else to say about this part except Louis' vocabulary doesn't include the word 'awkward' and I give myself bonus points for the Batman reference.
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry doesn't stare at the letter for almost ten minutes (except that he does)

-'come back. -nh'-

"-wasn't expecting much else from Lone Wolf Styles-"

-blue, blue eyes-

-angry birds-

-that fake blonde hair-

"-control yourself, Styles-"

-his laugh-

-that twinkle in his eyes-

Harry throws down the note and books the next flight to anywhere but America.

xxxxxxxxxx

In Tokyo he breaks into the house of a powerful family to steal a samurai sword-

-he sends it to Louis-

-in Australia he treks through the Outback for a week and ends up in Sydney-

-in Sydney he sneaks into the Opera House and empties wallets and purses-

-after that he goes to Paris and swipes still-warm bread from stalls and goes four days without sleeping as he wanders the streets-

-and climbs to the top of the Eiffel Tower and-

-goes to the Louvre and closes his eyes and imagines for a moment getting away with stealing one of these historical paintings-

-Zayn would kill him-

-off to South Africa for a while where he integrates himself with the high society and then wipes them clean of every valuable item they own-

-when he's in Hong Kong he stays away from the gambling and instead enjoys the flashing lights and all the people-

-he sends Liam a care package of every cute stuffed animal he came across-

-Istanbul is next, the Great Bazaar proves a fertile ground for his master pick pocketing skills-

-off to Mumbai where he sleeps all day and is up all night-

-he goes to Dubai and stands in many of man's tallest skyscrapers-

-he's in Rome and looks at the Vatican and thinks nah, maybe some other day-

-and Dublin-

-and Bangkok-

-and Madrid-

-and Venice-

-and Amsterdam-

"-attention, passengers, we are beginning our descent into Los Angeles. Please fasten your seatbelts, turn off all electronics, and stow away your belongings. Thank you."

Harry blinks, slowly, and lets out a breath.

'come back'.

It's been about a year since he left.

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry knows as soon as he stepped off the plane Niall knew he was back in the States.

(Niall Niall Niall Niall Niall Niall Niall, His mind chants, and Harry sighs, pressing a hand against his ears).

He's surprisingly okay with it. He can't run forever.

-he wants the pranks and the computers everywhere and Liam's bloody cute cat videos and minions who don't know what they're doing and Niall's laugh and his eyes and his accent and-

Harry pulls out his phone.

(Speed dial is your friend)

It rings twice.

"Horan's House of Crazies, Louis speaking, how may I not help you?"

"...Louis," Harry says slowly.

"Styles!" Louis declares cheerfully and bloody hell, Harry had forgotten how loud he can get. "A personal phone call! I feel special! Thanks for the sword, by the way!"

"You're welcome," Harry chuckles, and runs a hand through his curls. "Tell Niall," He says slowly, forming each syllable with a carefulness. "I need five days."

There's a beat of silence.

"Do I want to know?" Louis finally asks, and Harry chuckles again.

"I'm back, Louis."

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME," Louis shouts down the phone so loudly that Harry has to hold it about a foot away from his ear. "Why didn't you lead with that? LIAM, ZAYN, HARRY'S BACK!" He shouts again, although his voice is a little quieter so Harry assumes he's turned his head away to shout at Liam and Zayn.

There's another second of silence before Harry hears Louis say, "Sod off, sometimes I swear you're half computer yourself! IT'S TOTALLY POSSIBLE!"

"Louis," Harry says patiently. By now he's reached the terminal and is waiting for his luggage to come down the conveyor belt.

"Right, sorry," Louis says, not sounding sorry at all. "What were you saying?"

"Five days," Harry repeats. "I'll see you guys in five days."

(He doesn't feel bad at all about hanging up on Louis before he can start screaming down the phone again).

xxxxxxxxxx

He debates renting or buying a car. Twenty-nine hours later, he's back in Chicago with his own new shiny red Ford.

He packs up every important thing in his base, stuffs it in the back of the car and texts Nick to set up getting rid of everything else.

(N: I'm not your bloody butler, Styles!

H: Yes you are, Alfred.)

By the time everything's all organized and done, Harry's got twenty hours until his five days are up.

He gets in the car and drives.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Hello," Harry says politely. "Are you new? I don't recognize you."

The minion just stares at him.

"Right, well," Harry clears his throat. "I'm here to see, er, Mr. Horan?"

Stare.

"405, who's at the-HARRY!" Louis shouts, and practically runs down the grand staircase to pull the brunette into a hug. "Look at you, Styles! All that golden skin, and look at your curls! You look like a proper stud now!"

"I don't think you can judge about stud material," Liam materializes almost out of nowhere. "Hello, Harry."

"Liam," Harry says, pushing ineffectually at Louis' head. "How are you?"

"Lovely, thanks for asking. Got your care package, think you went a little overboard with the stuffed animals though."

"Zayn claimed about half of them because he was upset you didn't send him anything," Louis says as he clutches at Harry's shoulders, obviously upset that Harry and Liam are mostly ignoring him.

Harry blinks in confusion. "But I did!"

"Lou, get off him," Zayn says, appearing next to Liam's shoulder, glasses perched on his nose and tablet in one hand. "It's okay, Harry. You didn't need to get me anything."

"But I got you a few things while I was in China and Tokyo," Harry says, freeing one of his hands from Louis' death-hug and pulling out his phone. "I'll see if I can find out what happened to them, yeah?"

"Yeah, whatever," Zayn says, but the tips of his ears are red and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Harry smiles at him and manages to send a text off to Nick, even with one of his hands still held captive by Louis.

"Louis, get off of him," A new voice says, and Harry feels a shiver spread up his spine at the brogue.

His eyes slip close for a second, and when he opens them again Louis has finally let go of him and Niall's standing in front of him, dyed hair styled in an attractive mess, bright blue eyes dancing, a smirk on his face.

"Been a while, Styles."

Harry can't help the smile that stretches his lips. "Hullo, Niall," He says softly, and out of the corner of his eyes the brunette can see Louis elbowing Liam frantically.

Liam sighs and grabs Louis' arm, pinning it against his body forcefully and flicking him on the nose.

Harry chuckles at them for a second before diverting his attention back to Niall.

The Irishman looks a little startled at the use of his first name, but that smirk is plastered back on his face in half a second.

"Welcome back, Harry," Niall says finally, and Harry's heart swells a little bit.

(He's so screwed)


	4. four + epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fought with this chapter for about a thousand years. It won.
> 
> SIGH.
> 
> Anyways I hope it's not terrible, I couldn't find a good way to end it all. *shakes fist*
> 
> Enjoy.

Harry's back in the room he had a year ago, and it hasn't changed a bit besides him mounting the St Michel where previously a fruit bowl painting had been hanging on the wall.

There's also plenty of new minions, and Harry's given up on remembering their names (or even the numbers Louis apparently assigned them) and just usually says, "Hey, you," if he needs to get their attention.

(It works well; at least one of them always turns around).

His second week back Nick texts Harry to let him know he's found Zayn's gifts tucked away in the back of his warehouse. Harry sends him an all-caps angry yet ecstatic message back, and soon enough Zayn's got three new pairs of nunchucks and all the latest not-yet-released software upgrades Harry had been able to get his hands on.

They don't see Zayn for three days afterwards, presumably he's off playing with his new toys.

Harry hangs up the Mark Lyles in the foyer, and threatens the minions with bodily harm if they even think about touching them.

(They cower in fear).

xxxxxxxxxx

His fourth week back, they're all gathered around the Crime Time Table, planning a heist to steal diamonds from some uptight rich chick.

"We're never going to get past those lasers," Liam says, and Harry just laughs.

"You might not be able to, but I can," He says.

They all just stare at him.

"I can!"

"Alright," Niall says slowly. "Harry gets us past the lasers. Zayn, once they're off-you make sure they stay off, right?"

"Course," Zayn says in a 'no duh' tone, and Niall rolls his eyes.

"Liam, you're outside. Let us know what's going on. And watch Zayn's back."

"Don't I always?" Liam says. Zayn scowls.

"And that just leaves me, Harry, and Lou," Niall stands up. "Let's get this done, guys."

xxxxxxxxxx

The three of them are hiding outside, in the cold bitter night, waiting for their target to head off to the fancy party she's attending tonight, and Harry's heartbeat is slow, calm.

To his right, Louis is playing with his knife collection. To his left, Niall is playing Angry Birds.

(It makes his heart all warm and soft that seemingly nothing's changed)

"Did you guys hear about that collector in Cairo who got busted for trying to smuggle antiques?" Harry asks suddenly, needing to talk and distract himself from the cold.

Niall looks up slowly from his phone. "Of course we did," He says patiently. "What-"

"Before I was in Rio I was in Egypt," Harry says, and shoves his hands in his pockets.

Louis lets out a cackle. "Payno owes me a hundred bucks!" He says cheerfully. "I knew that was you!!"

Harry grins slowly. "I'd always wanted to go to Egypt."

"I figure you've had enough vacation for about ten years," Niall says slowly, a little unsure, and Harry turns to look at him.

"I reckon I have," He agrees, and pretends he can't hearing Louis making excited noises behind him.

Niall seems appeased by this, and turns back to his phone.

(They nab the diamonds without a single thing going wrong)

xxxxxxxxxx

They pull heist after heist, and every day Harry's chest tightens a little.

Niall's always touching him, leaning in to peer over his shoulder at the Crime Time Table, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder while all five of them enjoy a beer, brushing past him in the hallway when there's plent of space to get by.

It's driving him crazy.

He dreams about Niall, he dreams about their heists, he dreams about them ruling over a criminal empire together.

Harry wants it all.

Eight months after his return Nick sends him a text: I can feel u pining all the way from London STOP IT NOW YOUNG MAN

Harry sends back: you're fired

Nick says: you don't mean that you love me :D

Harry sends: no I hate you I don't know why I ever hung out with you

(He apologizes twenty minutes later)

xxxxxxxxxx

He's cranky, tightly wound, and nothing can help him relax. He feels like throttling something.

"Harry, put the scary face away," Louis says, and Harry screams, banging his head on the kitchen table.

Louis and Zayn stare at him.

"Sorry. Ugh. Sorry," He mutters into the table, and Louis pats his back lightly.

"Whatever's wrong, Harold, it'll work itself out."

"Shut up," Harry says. "And go tell Liam you like him."

"...that is a good idea, my fine man," Louis says, and then disappears out the kitchen door.

Zayn stares at him. "Niall and I have been trying to get them together for MONTHS."

"I'm just awesome," Harry says, and gets up to go beat up a punching bag in the gym.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Harry," Niall says. "Are you okay?"

The curly-haired brunette looks up from his laptop, where he'd been reblogging pictures of kittens (it is all Liam's fault, that ass has gotten him sucked into the world of blogging) and feels his chest tighten again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry says, and tries to keep his voice from wavering.

"You screamed at the fridge this morning," The blonde says.

...it wasn't one of Harry's finest moments, that's for sure.

"I'm fine," Harry says, and reblogs a picture of a cat riding around on a dog's back.

"No you're not," Niall says. "And you're frightening the minions."

"One of the minions got scared of a piece of string last week," Harry says. "It takes work to NOT scare the minions."

"Shut up," Niall says. "And stop hiding from your problems, from what ever is wrong."

Harry swallows, and closes his laptop lid.

Niall raises an eyebrow.

"I'm..." Harry doesn't know how to word this. "I left for a reason."

"Yes, that's obvious," Niall sighs.

"But it wasn't the reason I thought I was leaving for," Harry continues like Niall had never interrupted him.

Niall raises both eyebrows.

"I'm not good with feelings," Harry huffs. "I like to pretend they don't exist. Unfortunately, they do."

"...Harry...?"

"You-it is impossible for someone to not like you," Harry accuses. "We were rivals for years, and after spending a mere two months with you I got sucked into orbit around you. You're like a fucking sun, Niall."

"I'm trying to figure out if that was a compliment," Niall says, but his eyes are soft and the corner of his mouth is quirked up in a smile.

"Shut up, you know it was," Harry swallows. "I thought about you guys all the time while I was gone. I couldn't even keep a promise to myself and continue to hate you guys. Ugh, fuck," Harry presses the heel of one hand to his eye, and swallows again.

"Harry, whatever you're trying to say...I need you to come out and just say it," Niall says, and is suddenly right in front of him.

"Right, okay," Harry wipes his palms against his jeans. "I really fucking like you a lot, Niall Horan."

"Oh good," Niall's smiling at him. "Cause I really fucking like you a lot too, Harry Styles."

He leans in, and Harry leans up.

xxxxxxxxxx

EPILOGUE

"LEEEEEEEEE-YUMMMMMMM, DAHLINK!"

"I'm not here," Liam says, ducking behind Harry's desk.

"Of course you're not," Harry says, turning his attention back to his laptop, where he's writing letter to Nick, who's off in the Bahamas, of all places.

IN CONCLUSION, He types. WE'RE ALL DOING GREAT HERE AND I HATE YOU FOR BEING IN A SUNNY PLACE, YOU GIANT ASS. OH, AND ZAYN SAYS THANKS FOR BESSIE 2.0

He signs his name and hits send.

His study door flings open again and Louis waltzes in. "Harold!"

"Stop calling me that," Harry says for the three hundredth and thirty-eighth time.

"Whatever you say, Harold. Anyway! Have you seen Liam, I've just got a new gun and I want to test it out-"

"Haven't seen him since this morning, Lou," Harry says. "Have you looked in the minion wing?"

"I have not! I shall do so immediately!" Louis says, and waltzes right back out.

Harry waits ten seconds, then says, "I don't understand you two."

"Honestly, neither do I," Liam sighs, getting up from behind his desk. "Thanks Harry. I'll leave you be."

"Mmm," Harry says, and waves him out the door.

Two minutes go by, and his door opens again.

"Harry," Niall whines.

"Yes, babe?"

"No more minions. I don't care what I say in the future," He slumps down in Harry's lap. "No. MORE."

"Whatever you say," Harry laughs, and leans up to press a kiss against Niall's cheek.

THE END


End file.
